


Hey Good Lookin

by silverfoxflower



Series: Tumblr-style Commentfics and Drabbles [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Kitchen Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower





	Hey Good Lookin

She comes around like a cat when he cooks, hanging over his shoulder, sticking her fingers in all the food. The first time Sam had slaps her hand away out of habit, he's so petrified she’d shank him. But Natasha just gets this strange smile on her face and grabs the mixing spoon full of cookie dough, licking it seductively as she saunters out. 

Sometimes she wonders aloud, in a far too serious tone, what she she can do to contribute, and Sam tells her and keeps telling her that it’s all for her anyway. He bakes and sautes and begs his mother for family recipes just for the orgasmic noises Natasha makes when she eats his food, and the way she looks so young and happy. Those rare moments of vulnerability just for him.

And maybe she help with the dishes more, you know.

"Sometimes I think you’re just using me for my lasagna," he accuses her, as she jumps up on a clean counter, watching him layer the meat and pasta and sauce with dark eyes.

"And your body," she dimples, reaching over and setting the timer on the oven as he slides the dish inside.

"Could be worse," Sam shrugs, walking over to her as she inclines her head. 

They kiss, Natasha’s fingers slowly pulling open his apron strings, her legs wrapping around his waist.

She has on one of those soft cotton sundresses she only wears around the house, barefoot and quietly carefree. Sam slides his palms up her smoooth thighs, finding, with an answering throb in his cock, that she has nothing on underneath it.

Natasha breaks away from the kiss to glance at the oven. “You have 50 minutes.”

Sam remembers last time, when he’d been mid-thrust when the timer for the cookies went off and Natasha untangled herself and all but _sprinted_ from the room to get them.

"I’ll definitely keep that in mind," he says seriously, sliding one finger into her wet.


End file.
